


Fall-back

by IrethR



Category: Glee, Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Action, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drama, F/F, F/M, Humor, Humour, M/M, Magic, Romance, xover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 09:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrethR/pseuds/IrethR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war Harry moves to Lima, Ohio to try and live a normal life as just another invisible teenager. You know what they say about best laid plans, though. KH/HP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Man up

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> Welcome to my first cross-over fic!
> 
> I'll be trying to upload this as often as I can. Having said that, I'm in college (which I'm trying to fast track, so that's double the workload), I tutor, have got a little bit of what still resembles a social life, and I've got two other WIPs up. Still, I'm excited about this cause these are my favourite fandoms and I love toying around with them ^^
> 
> So, enjoy reading and please let me know what you think about it, okay? :)

It really shouldn't be frightening. It was just a building. Oblong, two floors, maybe an attic. The outside was a colour of pale yellow probably meant to reassure new people that it wasn't there to hurt them. Somehow though, the message didn't really seem to come through to Harry.

 

Harry Potter, aged 18 years old, sat in his car staring up at the daunting building in front of him. He was valiantly trying to get a grip.

 

"Come on, Potter," he muttered to himself. "It's just a school, it shouldn't be scary."

 

But it was. The tall windows winked at him, trying to gain his trust. The doors swung open invitingly for each passing student. The football field's luscious green grass ruffled gently in the wind, begging him to run over it. The glaring red letters on the front wall of the school building declaring it to be William Mckinley High promised him a normal teenage life. And still it scared the bejeebus out of him.

 

He hadn't been to muggle school in so long. Ever since he got his Hogwarts letter in an abandoned cabin out in the stormy sea he hadn't looked back on his previously ordinary life even once. He had immersed himself into a world of magic, fairy tales and miracles. And then the war had happened.

 

While they had been looking for the missing pieces of Voldemort's soul, Hermione and he had come up with a back-up plan. A fall -back of sorts. If Hogwarts would fall and the magical world would crumble – _because_ , Hermione had theorised, _the magical ley lines under the school formed the crux of Britain's magical population_ \- they'd go muggle. They wouldn't stay in a world where people would not know what to do with themselves if magic took a small break to rejuvenate itself. They'd leave.

 

It seemed easy, too. When the search for the horcruxes didn't go well Hermione had him and Ron study muggle school subjects. She, of course, had kept up with her muggle school studies in her summer holidays. With the combined force of Hermione's and Harry's knowledge even Ron had had basic knowledge of the muggle world and the school subjects given in it. He would have needed to be placed in Special Needs classes, but he'd manage.

 

Only Hogwarts didn't fall. The magical world didn't crumble. Instead, it cheered. It celebrated. The Greatest Evil of its time had been defeated, who wouldn't celebrate? Magical places that had been destroyed in the battles had been rebuilt, and people got on with their lives. For some, though, this was easier than for others.

 

Hermione and Ron decided to go back to Hogwarts for their final year of magical schooling. So did most of the DA. The teachers that had survived had started looking for new staff members. Harry had received a Hogwarts letter as well, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, which he had spent at the Weasleys' (who had miraculously not lost any family members even though they were front and centre in the war).

 

He had thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. He could go back to school, could continue live as normal. He could get back in his school uniform, follow his classes and graduate a year later than planned. But something stopped him from doing just that. Truth be told, he didn't want to go back. Hogwarts had given him many happy times, this was true, but the times that stood out in his mind were the ones where he had to fight for his live.

 

Besides, if he were to go back he'd only be known as Harry Potter, the boy who had finally defeated Lord Voldemort. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Conquered. The Boy Who Defeated He Who Must Not Be Named. Mister Fame. Mister Popular. Mister Way Too Many Names To Be Considered Healthy. And quite frankly, he was sick of that. He just wanted to be somewhere where he could be just Harry. Whoever the hell that was.

 

So here he was, in a small town in Nowhere, America. Hiding in a bright red Mini Cooper so he didn't have to go into the school building yet. And really, that was the last time he allowed Remus to pick a car. Terrible little thing, and oh so very stereotypically British. Typical Marauder humour.

 

Remus was at their home right now, still decorating and taking care of his son Teddy. He'd get a job eventually, but for now he would play stay at home dad so Teddy could settle in to a new environment. Besides, it would take time to find a reliable babysitter who wouldn't run away in terror if Teddy sneezed and accidentally changed his hair colour while doing so. It would take time to find someone that would actually believe it was a trick of the lighting andthat _yes, his hair has always been blue, are you only just now noticing?_

 

So yeah, Remus probably wouldn't go looking for a job till Teddy was old enough for High School. But that was alright really, since they had enough money to get on with for a good long while to come. Sirius' death three years previous, while terrible, had left them both well enough off to live for a lifetime or two, and Harry had enough money left to him by his parents as well. If they wanted to, neither one of them would have to work for the rest of their lives, but both of them wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they'd just stay at home.

 

So, Harry was finishing his muggle education so he could get a diploma and maybe even go to a muggle college of some sort. He had no idea yet what he wanted to make of his life after High School. He had done nothing but fight for the past seven years and had chosen his subjects at Hogwarts accordingly. While he had been good at them –with the exception of Potions- he hadn't necessarily loved them. He had to fight to survive and hadn't really looked at any other job possibilities than being an Auror.

 

_No time to think about that now though_ , he thought as an annoying buzz sounded across the parking lot. _Time to man up and get your arse into that school building. Come on, are you a Gryffindor or what? Courage, Potter._

 

He got out of the car, slinging his old, trusty shoulder bag on his shoulder and locking the car behind him. People looked at him as he went past, but for once it wasn't because they recognised who he was. It was because they had absolutely no clue. A small grin managed to fight its way to his face. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. It's just school, right? What could possibly happen in muggle school? Merlin, he had been making an arse out of himself panicking over muggle school in his car. This wasn't so scary.

 

His thoughts came to a grinding halt after walking past a boy who was picking what looked suspiciously like day old vegetables from his jacket and passing a group of jocks who were talking about some guy.

 

"Hey, did you hear? Puckerman's getting released from Juvie!", one of them said to another, who looked to be somewhat in charge. He didn't look all the intelligent though, and the mullet in his neck was downright awful.

 

"After stealing that ATM? What'd he do to get out in only three weeks?"

 

"Dunno man," the first answered.

 

Harry quickly fastened his pace. Stealing an ATM? Juvenile Hall? He remembered when Dudley got sent there in the summer between fourth and fifth year. The diet aunt Petunia had had him on had driven him even more violent than he already had been and he'd stole some old lady's purse. And had managed to get chased down by her and hit over the head repeatedly with her walking stick. He was out of Juvenile Hall rather quick too, but Harry had always just assumed it was because he had probably been the laughing stock of the place and someone had taken pity on him or something.

 

_Okay, first thing's first,_ he thought to himself while entering the school building and ignoring curious looks from students, _find the headmaster's – no, that's 'principal' here- find the principal's office and get a schedule and directions. Second thing : Avoid that Puckerman guy. He sounds like trouble and that's the last thing I want right now._

 

_Also: Try not to draw attention to yourself. Let's keep things nice and quiet._

* * *


	2. Tour Guide

Finding the principal's office was a lot easier than Harry thought it would be. All he had to do was follow the sounds of a woman shouting. While he walked in the direction of the voice he saw students giving him warning glances, as if they were trying to tell him to save himself and run in the other direction as fast as he could. Too bad that Harry had never run away from possible danger before and he wasn't planning on starting now.

 

The shouting, as it turned out, came from a very tall, blonde woman in a tracksuit. She was raging at an Indian- looking man behind a desk and her words pierced straight through the glass doors that surrounded them. Harry swallowed, praying that she wouldn't be the teacher for any of his subjects, and walked up to the secretary who was busy filing her nails like this was an everyday occurrence.

 

"Name?", she snippily asked after having deemed the nail of her right thumb – which Harry personally thought looked right ridiculous all covered in green and purple stars like that- perfect.

 

"Harry Potter," he answered. "I'm new here and I was supposed to meet with the principal to go over my file and transfer papers?"

 

She looked at him as if she doubted that very much.

"Are you sure?", she asked.

 

"Fairly sure," Harry answered, pulling a sheet of paper from his bag. "I've got the email detailing the meeting right here."

 

It wasn't really like him to have things like printed out emails with him. In fact, Harry would be the first to admit that he was one of the most disorganised people on the planet. He could never find anything and was always secretly relieved whenever Hermione would get him and Ron something for Christmas that would help them be more organised, no matter how much he groaned and claimed to hate them.

 

The reason he had the email with him today was simple. Remus had printed it out for him. As it turned out, Remus was a muggle enthusiast like Mr Weasley and had insisted on them getting both a computer and a laptop, a printer, television and muggle kitchen appliances. This wasn't because he was curious about them, but because he was used to them. Being a werewolf had severely limited his job options in the wizarding world and he had started working in the muggle world instead. Add that to the fact that Remus was a bit of an organisational nut, and you have an overly prepared Harry starting his first day of muggle high school.

 

The secretary snatched the paper from his hand and started looking it over like she didn't believe a word he was saying. She looked it over, made a few noises Harry suspected were meant to make her sound smarter but in reality only made her look like she knew less than he had previously assumed.

 

"Fine then," she finally said, before handing back the paper. Harry quickly slipped it back into his bag. "I'll let him know you're here. Take a seat next to Noah over there."

 

She motioned to the other side of the room, where Harry noticed a guy with a mohawk was sat. He didn't really seem like a Noah to Harry. The name somehow seemed too sweet for someone slouched in his seat like that, with a looked in his eyes that basically screamed not to get any closer if he wanted to keep all his fingers. Harry sat down next to him anyways.

 

After seeing the secretary go back to filing her nails and not making any attempt to notify the principal that he was there, Harry figured she didn't really want to come in between the screaming lady and the principal either. He cautiously leaned back in the uncomfortable seat against the wall, mindful of the shady looking guy next to him. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the guy with the mohawk decided to speak:

 

"So, what are you in for?" he said, looking at Harry from the corner of his eyes.

 

"Just transferred here," Harry answered. "I'm supposed to go over my file with the principal, but he seems….busy."

 

The guy barked out a laugh. "Yeah, I suppose that's a word for it. Where'd you transfer from, short stuff?"

 

Harry balked a little at that. Sure, he wasn't exactly as tall as this guy, but he wasn't as short as he had been either. He'd never be able to reach the uttermost top shelves in the stores, but at least he didn't get mistaken for a twelve year old everywhere he went anymore.

 

"A school in Schotland," he answered shortly, not sure if he liked the guy next to him. Still, he was as curious as ever – something that had never failed to give Hermione miniature heart attacks every time he thought he saw something interesting during their school days- and asked:

 

"Why are _you_ here then?"

 

The boy shrugged. "Got back from an unintended vacation. Have to report back in."

 

Harry eyed him, not sure if there was even any truth in what the boy was saying, but willing to go with it for now. Before he could question the boy further though, the screaming in the office stopped, and his gaze was drawn to the glass walls. The woman looked as if she was panting heavily while the man looked smug. Harry guessed the principal must have won the shouting match. The woman walked out of the office and Harry instinctively tried to blend in with the chair he was sitting on.

 

"This isn't over yet, Figgins! I'll get that budget back!", she shouted over her shoulder before barrelling out of the front office, leaving Harry to look at her retreating back in awed fear.

 

"Meet coach Sylvester," the guy beside him said, "Some advice for you, new kid; stay out of her way."

 

"Funnily enough," Harry answered, getting up and walking to the office because the secretary was pointing at him with her nail file and gesturing him to go in, "I had figured that much myself."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

After about fifteen minutes of the principal talking excitedly at him in an accent he had difficulty making out, Harry walked out of the office, pinching the bridge of his nose. It appeared that because the Hogwarts papers that had been heavily modified to appear muggle made him seem like some sort of genius while really, had had trouble keeping up with Hermione in even the easiest subjects she had forced down his and Ron's throats during the lulls in their quest for Voldemort's horcruxes. As a result, Harry had been automatically signed up for AP classes. Not just one or two, because he could have handled AP English and AP Home Ec. Or something, but all of them. He had been signed up for every single AP class that seemed to correspond well with the classes he had taken at Hogwarts. Basically, Harry was screwed. Ron was going to get a kick out of this.

 

He walked up to the secretary, who by now has started flipping through a magazine with her nail file lying next to her on her desk like some sort of weapon, to get his class schedule from her. While she huffed and puffed her way through checking the computer and printing out the piece of paper, the guy he had sat beside earlier was being escorted out of the office by the principal, who walked up to the desk with him. Instead of addressing the secretary like he had expected though, the Indian man started speaking to Harry instead:

 

"Mr Potter. Mr Puckerman here will be your guide for the day, just until you know where everything is in the school."

 

Harry raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised at the offer, and not really believing that the boy with the mohawk would have offered to do such a thing. "Thank you, sir," he answered. "That's very kind of you."

 

The man nodded to him, nearly beaming, wished them a good day and disappeared back into his office. Harry was handed his class schedule and followed the boy out of the office, needing to walk faster than usual to be able to fall into step with him.

 

"So, thanks for doing this," he said to him, once had caught up.

 

"Yeah whatever, midget," the boy grunted. "What's your name anyways?"

 

"It's Harry," Harry answered. " And I'm not _that_ short."

 

"For a hobbit maybe," the boy snorted. "I'm Puck. Schedule?"

 

Harry decided not to argue any further since he really couldn't afford to alienate the guy that was showing him around. He handed Puck the schedule and watched him look it over.

 

"So your parents named you Puck Puckerman?" he asked, disbelievingly.

 

"Of course not," Puck scoffed, but didn't comment further. "Jesus, don't you have any normal classes?"

 

Harry just shrugged, still walking beside Puck. He was a bit surprised when they stopped at the nurse's office instead of at a classroom. He looked at Puck confusedly, and frowned when he was handed back his schedule.

 

"Why are we here?", he asked.

 

"Because I have math," Puck said, as if that was exactly what Harry should have been thinking al along. At Harry's look, he continued: "I don't do math. See you later, Stunt."

 

And with that, he closed the door to the office behind him, leaving Harry to stand in the hallway without knowing where he was supposed to go. He also felt like his height had just been insulted again, but he couldn't be sure.

 

"Jerk," he muttered to himself while looking around him. "Where am I supposed to go now?"

 

Before he could contemplate it any further though, a deep, annoying buzzing sound sounded through the building and the doors to the classrooms in the halls swung open, dozens of students suddenly crowding the halls and making Harry feel even more disorientated. He spun around, deciding to just start walking in one direction and ask someone for the way to his classroom.

 

Before he could even get to the other side of the hall however, something icy splattered around his shins. He instinctively looked down and noticed that his shoes were covered in what seemed to be some sort of blue icy substance. He made a step forward and felt how his feet nearly stuck to the floor. A sticky blue icy substance then. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see a guy- who he was pretty sure was the same guy he had noticed picking rotten vegetables from his jacket- stomp to what he assumed to be a bathroom, entirely covered in the blue gunk.

 

Harry looked down again, walking forward down the hall. His shoes made a squelching sound with each step. So far today he had been placed in classes that were way too hard for him, lost his unconventional tour guide and had his shoes and the undersides of his jeans covered in blue gunk. He sighed to himself. And it was still only half past nine.

 

"Just bloody perfect," he muttered.

* * *


	3. A Real Guide

It hadn't taken Harry very long to find the classroom he was supposed to be in. It also hadn't taken Harry very long to find out that McKinley's educational system sucked big time. The teacher had taken one look at him, put him in a seat in the front- next to some guy in a wheelchair-, had greeted the class, given them a few sheets of papers covered in questions, and left. The teacher had left. Just like that. Harry turned to his neighbour.

 

"Is he serious?" he asked disbelievingly. The boy next to him ( Who was wearing the most ridiculous outfit Harry had ever seen. A bowtie _and_ suspenders? Really?) looked at him as if he was surprised to be spoken to, even though the rest of the class had started chatting away the second the teacher had closed the door behind him.

 

"Mr Collins? Oh yeah, dead serious. I'm betting he won't be coming back, either," he answered Harry, looking at him curiously. "Nice accent, by the way. Where are you from?"

 

"Surry, England," Harry replied. "Went to school up in Scotland though. I'm Harry."

 

"Artie," the boy replied, shaking the hand Harry had extended to him with one of his own gloved hands.

 

A few moments of silence passed in which Harry looked at his papers with disbelief still etched in his face and Artie calmly started answering the questions on the papers in front of him.

 

"So, why are you here and not in England?" Artie suddenly asked, scribbling away on the papers.

 

Harry shrugged, deciding he might as well start answering the questions as well, and answered while skimming over the questions: "I decided to graduate from an American high school as well, to broaden the range of universities I can apply to."

 

A complete lie, of course. You could very well apply to American colleges and universities with a British secondary school diploma or A-levels. He counted on Artie not knowing this though, and added:

"Didn't realise the educational system here was shit, though. What kind of teacher just leaves instead of teaching?"

 

Artie snorted. "I hear you, dude. Self- study is key here."

 

Harry tried to supress a groan. The one thing Hermione had always hammered on him and Ron for; self- study. Coincidentally something he really, really hated. He had always been more of a hands- on sort of learner. Somehow he doubted that he'd get many practical classes here.

 

Artie looked away from his papers to look at him.

 

"Do you know your way around yet?", he asked.

 

"Not quite," Harry answered tartly. "I had a tour guide but he bailed on me before he even pointed me to this classroom."

 

Artie made a face. "That sucks man. I can show you around if you'd like?"

 

He asked his question very carefully, as if expecting to be shot down immediately. Harry , on the other hand, couldn't believe his luck. From his short walkthrough of the building he had noticed that it wasn't very large – certainly not as large as Hogwarts- but that it was still quite easy to lose your way in, since every single hallway you walked in looked exactly like the last.

 

"That would be brilliant," he answered with a grin. "This building confuses the hell out of me."

 

Artie grinned back. "Cool."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As it turned out, all Harry had needed was a proper tour guide of the building to be able to find his way around himself. Another thing Harry found out was that Artie was quite funny when he wanted to be.

 

" _The cafeteria. Bring your own food if you want to be sure you'll live to see tomorrow. If you're feeling daring though, just stick with the soup. Highest chance of survival."_

 

_._

" _The school trophy case. Pretty damn empty. Feel free to mock."_

 

.

" _Home ec. You in Home ec.?"_

 

"… _yeah?"_

 

" _Awesome. You'll bake muffins. My favourite are blueberry, fyi."_

 

" _Noted."_

 

.

" _The choir room. Here's where all the cool people hang."_

 

" _Who are they, then?"_

 

" _Glee club."_

 

"… _.no offense, Artie, but-"_

 

" _Yeah, I know. Doesn't sound cool. We're not, really."_

 

" _Then why-"_

 

" _I like to kid myself sometimes."_

 

.

" _Oh, there's your locker. A high one. Lucky you."_

 

" _What's wrong with a low one? "_

 

" _When someone drops their drink, it splashes between the grooves. I cello- wrap my books."_

 

" _Ah."_

 

.

" _Aaaand here's your next class. AP Latin, huh?"_

 

" _Yup."_

 

" _Didn't even know we had Latin here."_

.

 

With that, and a promise to join him for lunch, Harry had let Artie go his own way and had entered his classroom. It wasn't really a surprise that Artie didn't know there was a Latin class at McKinley. Counting Harry, there were only three students in the room. One of them was a grungy looking kid who smelled as if he hadn't taken a shower in months and appeared to actually be asleep, the other was an excitable looking girl with big brown eyes and long brown hair that reminded Harry of Hermione for a brief moment. And then she opened her mouth.

 

"Hi! You must be the new kid! It's great to see another student interested in the ancient language that is Latin. I won't really use it in the future, since I'm going to make it big on Broadway and be a star and all that, but it's always nice to know I could get into a medical profession with this knowledge as a back-up plan, of course! My dads always tell me it's extremely important to have a back- up plan, and I'm inclined to agree. What if my voice gives out or I have a terrible accident that will leave me all disfigured and ugly? Oh, where are my manners? I'm Rachel. Rachel Berry. And you are?"

 

Harry's initial thoughts about her were way of. The only way this girl could possibly still remind him of Hermione was if Hermione would take speed and grow an attitude. Both of which were highly unlikely.

 

"Harry Potter," he hesitatingly answered, not sure if it was really safe to take the seat next to her she was excitedly gesturing at. "Nice to meet you?"

 

"Pleased to meet you, too," she beamed at him, before practically manhandling him into the chair.

 

Harry sat down, and took out his notebook, a pen, and the day planner Hermione had nearly thrown at him while he was packing ( _"Remember Harry, it's all in the planning!"_ ) and placed them on his table, trying to avoid the excited brown eyes he knew were aimed at the side of his face. He was saved from looking at her again by the teacher walking in. Unfortunately for Harry, the teacher barely acknowledged they were there, handed out stacks of papers much the same as the ones he had been filling in with Artie the previous hour, instructed them to complete the exercises on them, and began reading the _Lima Gazette_ at his desk.

 

Rachel began babbling excitedly at him again, and Harry started to wonder if her mood- switch was just stuck on that emotion. She started talking at him about the exercises and Harry glanced at the boy in the back from the corner of his eyes. Rachel caught his glance and said:

 

"Oh, that's Brett. Don't worry about including him. He'll wake up ten minutes till time, finish the exercises and ace them, too. He's scary smart. Are you smart, Harry?"

 

Harry shrugged, never having really considered himself smart but also never having considered himself dumb.

 

"I do okay, I guess," he answered diplomatically.

 

She narrowed her eyes a bit and snatched the schedule he had stuffed in his day planner from out of it to look it over. Her gleaming eyes looked back at him after quickly scanning the page and Harry felt a small shiver run down his spine.

 

"I have decided you're going to be my partner in every group project we'll get assigned this year," she stated, very matter- of – factly.

 

Harry gulped. How on earth was he going to shake this girl?

* * *


End file.
